


Stealth Mode

by roktavor



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Canon - Book, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minho Ships It, Mischief, Pre-Canon, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 11:39:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roktavor/pseuds/roktavor
Summary: The Glade doesn't offer much by way of lighthearted entertainment - so Newt makes his own, in the form of sneaking as many kisses to Alby as he can without anyone noticing.





	Stealth Mode

**Author's Note:**

> This is bookverse again (bc I love long hair Newt) but it works well enough for either, really? Tho, Nick is mentioned a lot, so, pretty heavily bookverse, haha. It also takes place before Thomas shows up.
> 
> Warning for some allusions to Newt's suicide attempt and depression. I kept it pretty vague, I think, and things get fluffy again p soon after, but it's still there.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Alby demands, as soon as the door to their room closes behind them.

“Hm?” Newt tilts his head to the side in a way-too-obvious show of innocence. “What d’you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean,” Alby says. He takes a couple steps closer to Newt, maintaining eye contact in an effort to convey his seriousness.

Newt shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but I really don’t.” The wide grin that he’s having trouble containing implies otherwise, though. Alby knows him well enough to be able to tell when he’s blatantly lying; Newt’s cute act won’t work on him. (It certainly doesn’t stop him from using said cute act, though.)

“You really _do_ ,” Alby insists. “What was with that kiss earlier?”

At that, Newt’s smile cracks open, and he breaks down in a fit of giggles worthy of an elementary school girl at a slumber party. At midnight, after eating too much candy. If he tries to say anything in his defense, it’s lost in his obvious – and apparently uncontrollable – glee.

Crossing his arms, Alby barely resists rolling his eyes. In the end he only manages to ignore the urge because sending a glare will get his irritation across much better. He can’t have Newt thinking any of this amuses him (even if it does, just a teeny tiny bit), and he especially can’t let Newt know that his obnoxious snorting giggles are adorable (more than just a teeny tiny bit).

“Seriously, Newt,” he says, tone not-so-serious. Fortunately Newt’s contagious laughter dies down before Alby ends up joining in.

When he answers, Newt still sounds much too giddy. “Yes, Alby?”

“ _Newt_.” Alby tries to pump a warning tone into the name, but this situation feels beyond his control and he’s not sure if he manages.

It must work, at least to some degree, because Newt rolls his eyes, a smirk tilting the right corner of his mouth. “You’re asking why I kissed your neck in plain view of half the Keepers, out by the Box where any of the others could’ve seen, yeah?”

Alby shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His face feels like it’s flushing, but he hopes the light in the room is too dim and his skin is too dark for Newt to be able to see it. “Uh, _yeah_ ,” he says, because that’s _exactly_ what he’s asking.

“Because I felt like it,” Newt explains, shrugging one shoulder.

“That’s….” _Don’t get flustered_ , Alby tells himself, _don’t think of his mouth on the back of your neck_ – but it’s no use. Conducive to reprimanding his boyfriend or not, the blush is here to stay. “That’s not exactly keeping this whole thing private, is it?”

“Well, considering I was sneaky enough that no one saw anything,” Newt says, quirking an eyebrow, “I’d say our relationship is still plenty private.”

Alby tries to scowl, but judging by Newt’s ever-present smile, he knows that his actions weren’t _actually_ taken as poorly as Alby pretends. He knows that Alby didn’t _actually_ hate the fleeting, secret kiss.

And that’s bad, because Newt is going to take that as permission to do it _again_.

-

Alby’s on his way to the Homestead when he spots Newt exiting the West Door. He pulls up short and waves to him, smiling for the first time that day – or, at least, the first time since Newt left that morning. He gets a wave in response, and Newt alters his course a little, heading for Alby more than the Map Room, now.

When he gets closer, though, he doesn’t slow down enough, and his foot must get caught on something, because he trips, and suddenly Alby’s got his arms full of tall-and-blond as Newt crashes into him. Alby grabs on reflexively to keep him from falling the rest of the way, swaying a little on his feet with the force of it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a few heads turn in their direction, attention drawn by the spectacle.

It’s such a quick incident that he almost misses the feeling of puckered lips on his shoulder. He doesn’t quite catch it the first time, but then it happens again immediately after, and that time he’s _sure_. That was definitely a kiss.

Just as suddenly as he fell, Newt pushes off against him and stands back on his own feet. He’s got a sheepish grin on his face that just _has_ to be fake, judging by the mirth shining in his eyes. Alby is pretty sure he’s the only one close enough to see that, though.

“Newt, what on Earth,” he grumbles with a frown, lowly so no one can overhear.

“Thanks Alby,” Newt says, blatantly ignoring him in favor of patting the same shoulder he’d just kissed. “Lost my footing there for a moment.”

To Alby, all that does is confirm that Newt’s tripping was _also_ completely fake, and was orchestrated only to give him the chance to pull off another of his ridiculous public-but-not kisses. He’s an obnoxious idiot and Alby fell right into his trap.

“Get over here, ya clumsy shank!” Minho yells, hanging onto the Map Room door and leaning out so he can watch them. “Stop making doe eyes at Alby and finish your job!”

That gets a few chuckles from around the Glade, and Alby is _definitely_ blushing now. Someday very soon, he is going to kill Minho. There’s no way he knows about them. There’s _no_ way. And yet here he is, putting ideas in everyone’s heads. Between that and Newt’s stunts, it’s only a matter of time before they’re the talk of the town.

“I’m comin’,” Newt calls, meandering away at a steady pace, clearly unfazed, “don’t get your runnie undies in a twist.” As he goes, he aims a wink at Alby.

Alby tries to scowl at him in response, but doesn’t quite manage it.

-

Four months. It’s been four months without incident – Alby didn’t even realize that he’s been keeping track, but it must be that long, because the last time Newt covertly kissed him in public was when he was still a Runner.

Newt won’t be running the Maze ever again, and Alby will admit that he’s glad for that fact. He’s glad that Newt’s still alive. He’s glad he could save _someone_ in this hellish place, and he’s glad that even if he only saves one person’s life in the time he’s here, that the person he saves is Newt.

It’s been a rough several months, to be sure. Newt’s mental well-being and his injuries have both been taking their toll, but Alby is determined to stick with him no matter what. He’s promised himself that he’ll keep Newt as safe as he can – whatever that means.

Alby, Minho, and Nick are the only ones who know what really happened to Newt out in the Maze. Everyone else who asks gets a vague story about a Griever, as per Newt’s request, and Alby is more than happy to lie for him. Nick has also agreed to let Newt take on a few more leadership responsibilities rather than return to a single job. (While this may largely have been due to Alby’s cajoling, they can all agree that it’s nice having another seasoned Glader around to help run things.)

Newt’s been up and about for a while now, albeit with a pronounced limp that the Med-jacks say might not ever go away. But he’s doing better every day…even if he is late for breakfast this morning.

Alby had _tried_ to coax him out of bed on time, sure. Stubborn at the best of times, though, Newt had simply grumbled and swatted at him, telling him to go on ahead and that he’d be down when he ‘bloody well feels like it’.

And so here Alby sits, next to Nick and across from Minho, trying not to worry about what Newt’s reluctance to get out of bed could mean.

“Morning all,” comes a familiar voice, less than ten minutes into meal time. It’s Newt, of course, approaching their table from the side.

“Morning, lazy,” Minho says, kicking Alby’s shin under the table as he does (which he probably means to imply certain accusations that Alby is definitely going to ignore). “We didn’t grab you any food, so you’ll have to hope Frypan still has _something_ left.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on my way there. Just gotta tell Alby somethin’ real quick.”

And then Newt bends down until his mouth is next to Alby’s ear, long blond hair forming a curtain that obscures him from view. “There better be some bacon left,” he says, so softly that Alby hardly hears him – and then he plants a ghost of a kiss onto the shell of Alby’s ear.

It kind of tickles, and Alby presses his ear to his shoulder as soon as Newt backs off. Damn him, pulling that shit _again_.

But there’s a smile trying to force its way onto Alby’s face, courtesy of Newt acting like his old self. Even the knowledge that Minho and Nick are _right there_ and that half of the Glade were also probably watching their table thanks to Newt’s late entrance isn’t enough to get a _complete_ frown out of him.

-

Alby doesn’t want to assume that Newt is dawdling on purpose, but that does seem like a real possibility, considering how unpredictable the healing process has been. For all he knows, Newt’s limp could actually be acting up today, and he’d hate to conclude trickery – but something about the way Newt is taking the stairs in the Homestead seems deliberately slow.

Impatient as Alby feels, though, he won’t rush Newt. No matter how much of a contrived vibe he gets from Newt’s lopsided steps, he’ll resist the urge to tap his foot. Or bounce in place. Or leave him behind and go on ahead.

…In all honesty, he’d rather stay with Newt no matter how long the other boy takes, and his impatience is mostly a reflex. It’s nothing but spilled over irritation at today’s agenda.

The Glade is getting a new member today, and greeting the Greenies is one of Alby’s least favorite tasks. They’re always so…scared, and skittish, and it takes infuriatingly long for them to pull it together and help out. (Newt, of course, has something like a soft spot for them. Also of course, Nick won’t open the Box until his second-and-third in command show up, so there’s no avoiding this.)

Newt reaches Alby’s spot next to the door at last, and presses a hand to his shoulder, leaning into him. “Thanks for waitin’,” he says, crooked grin on his face. There’s an odd sort of sparkle in his eye, but Alby lets it be for now.

Instead, he responds with a smile of his own. “O’course.”

They leave the Homestead properly, then, and it’s completely deserted around here. Everyone else has already run ahead and crowded around the Box, taking advantage of the excuse to abandon their posts. The general chatter of conversation is louder when it’s all converged on one spot, and the others are talking and jeering enough that most sounds of nature are impossible to discern.

…It’s another reason Alby isn’t fond of Greenie day.

Newt seems awfully chipper, though – strolling along a lot easier now. It adds weight to Alby’s theory that he was taking his sweet time back at the Homestead, but the question why remains. All it’s accomplished is that now they’ll have to elbow their way through –

His thought process gets the axe when Newt swoops in and presses his mouth to Alby’s cheek. Alby’s feet grind to a halt, and Newt stops with him.

“Newt, what are –”

That grin on Newt’s face has gone mischievous, and he dips in again with another kiss, this one lasting _three entire seconds_ and getting planted on Alby’s temple. It’s a nice sensation, sure, but Alby can’t help the way his eyes snap over the crowd of Gladers less than ten feet ahead of them.

For some reason, Newt thinks that’s awfully funny. “Relax,” he says, “I made sure none of them were looking.”

Alby heaves a sigh, but it’s less longsuffering than he wants it to be. It isn’t helped any by the small smile he’s desperately trying to fight off. “You really gotta stop doing that,” he warns, “one of these times, someone’s gonna see.”

“Nonsense,” Newt says, “I’m perfectly stealthy.” He leans down towards Alby again – but this time Alby’s reflexes win, and he cuts him off by pressing a hand over Newt’s mouth. Apparently Newt isn’t to be deterred, though, because he simply grabs Alby’s wrist and pulls back enough to drop a kiss right into the middle of his palm. He follows it up with a kiss to one, then two of Alby’s fingertips.

“Alright, _alright_!” Alby shakes out his hand and yanks it away from Newt’s overzealous mouth. “That’s enough, you sappy shank….” He still can’t shake the fond smile from his face, and Newt seems ridiculously pleased about that fact as they continue towards the Box.

-

At this time of night, most of the Glade is asleep or well on its way there. The sun sank behind the walls hours ago, dinner and the end of the workday are both long over by now. Early mornings are a staple here, so no one much skips out on bedtime.

Alby, of course, is still awake.

He and Nick had some last minute things to discuss, which had quickly morphed into shooting the breeze (as much as one can when life is pretty much the same day-to-day), which in turn morphed into being the last ones awake. 

Nick went on ahead to bed a little while ago now, and Alby only stayed awake for one last trip to the bathroom before he’ll slip into bed next to Newt. He washes his hands, dries them on a hanging towel, and is on his way out the door of the bathroom when it happens.

Strong hands clasp around his biceps, and he’s pushed against the wall of the Homestead. His heart leaps into his throat with the initial fear, but it calms down instantly when he realizes that his captor is only Newt.

The fact still remains that Newt has him pinned to the Homestead wall, however, and he’s just about to come to the conclusion that there’s only one direction this could go in when Newt seals his mouth over Alby’s.

Newt breaks it off relatively soon, and mutters, “Hey, Alby.”

Alby, meanwhile, is still a little too stunned to reply. His pause isn’t that long, but it’s long enough for Newt to decide he wants seconds. This kiss is deeper, more drawn out – and Alby humors him by kissing back. Newt tilts his head for a better angle and slots their lips together seamlessly, nibbling on Alby’s full bottom lip. A soft, warm tongue darts out to slick its way into Alby’s mouth, and Alby lets it in –

Only for Newt to pull back, pat Alby’s shoulders, and saunter away with that quickly-becoming-way-too-familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. He’s also sporting an altogether too satisfied smirk.

Sufficiently dazed, it takes the sound of nearby snores to alert Alby to what, exactly, Newt had just done. This is by far his most daring ‘secret’ kiss yet…and Alby feels himself blushing his darkest yet.

“ _Newt_ ,” he hisses, as he hurries off in pursuit of his boyfriend, hoping against hope that everyone else is asleep.

-

Enough is enough, Alby decides. Newt has gotten the jump on him one too many times.

…Well, okay, maybe a few more than one too many times; that night outside the bathroom remains the deepest kiss, but it’s far from the most recent.

There was the kiss to his hand when he’d been leaning against the door to the shed, the one on the top of his head just after wake-up, and another one on his cheek just before a Gathering. Not to mention the prolonged hug behind the Slammer, which was a whole new kind of secret intimacy – Newt is branching out.

True to his word, Newt has managed to pull all of these off without being seen. The point still stands, though, that Alby thinks it’s high time he got in some kind of revenge. It’s only fair that Newt should have a taste of his own medicine.

Newt is working in the garden today, as he sometimes does when there’s nothing else pressing to attend to. He says all the busywork quiets his mind just enough to make thinking a little bit easier, and Alby can definitely respect that – but the garden just so happens to be a pretty much perfect place for what Alby has planned.

He’s not much of a fan of spur of the moment choices (despite this lifestyle sometimes requiring them, he’d rather plan ahead to avoid problems whenever possible), so he’s been thinking this over when he has spare time. It was only a matter of time until Newt played right into his hands, and there he is, over in the orchard, poking around a few apple trees.

Casually as he can, Alby makes his way over. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see a few people glance in his direction. Their gazes don’t linger long, though, because there’s nothing odd about Alby doing his rounds.

As he gets closer, Newt just so happens to move around to the back of the tree, and this setup keeps getting better and better. Newt hears him coming, of course, and looks up with a smile. “Hey, Alby,” he says.

And then Alby stops right next to him, standing still just long enough to make sure no one is looking in their direction. The trees have them covered pretty well, so before Newt can get suspicious, Alby moves closer and leans up to press a lingering kiss to the edge of Newt’s jaw.

Newt looks sufficiently taken off guard afterwards, and Alby nods once to himself for a job well done. Long eyelashes flutter for a moment in confusion – Alby takes this chance to walk away before the tables can be turned again.

“ _Alby!_ ”

The sound of his name is followed by Newt’s hurried footsteps, and Alby can’t help but smile. He gets why this makes Newt act so giddy.

A pair of arms wrap around his waist, and a kiss is planted behind his ear.

“You’ll pay for that one,” Newt mutters, lips still brushing Alby’s skin.

“You started it,” Alby counters.

“Get a room!” Minho’s voice comes from somewhere, and the moment is sufficiently shattered. Alby jerks forward at the same time as Newt releases him and lurches back, and Alby can feel himself blushing again.

Minho, meanwhile, looks pretty damn happy with himself, grin on his face as he waltzes past them on his way to the Map Room.

Because Newt’s pursuit of Alby took them both out of the cover of the orchard, _of course_ , and now there are a handful of other Glader’s staring in their direction – though that one may be mostly Minho’s fault. At any rate, Alby is going to blame him.

“Well,” Newt says, (and glancing at him tells Alby that at least he’s not the only one blushing), “thanks, Minho.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for all the fluff, uh. I recognize that I have a problem, but I, want them, to be happy,,.
> 
> …Also, the amount of times I initially typo’d “Hoestead” when I meant “Homestead” in this fic is unreal.
> 
> Thanks for reading.


End file.
